


In The Breaking

by howardently



Category: My Mad Fat Diary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-23
Updated: 2015-08-23
Packaged: 2018-04-16 17:27:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4633911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/howardently/pseuds/howardently
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>People always said Rae was “a big girl,” and Finn had always agreed. He’d known from the beginning that she was too big; too big for his small life, too big for his small heart. Rae’s a person full up, a person full of wonder and miracles and brains and bravery and bullshit. Rae’s too big to be held down, to be held back… and Finn had never ever wanted to do anything but participate in her huge life. To be a satellite to her cosmic being.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In The Breaking

He knows he’s fucked up as soon as the words tumble from his mouth. He hadn’t meant to say that, hadn’t meant to say any of the things he’s said lately. He’s just… he can’t quite get a handle on his life. Everything seems to be moving in these great chunks and swathes of time, everything’s changing seemingly all at once. They’ve been on course, smooth sailing for the most part, for over a year. And now, it’s here… the end of college for Rae. The end of living at home. The end of the gang. The end of them.

It’s the end of them that’s the problem, the them that’s looming and discoloring everything.

He’s finding moving out surprisingly difficult, finding that suddenly being responsible for all his own shit is terrifying in a way that he hadn’t anticipated. He’d mostly been doing his own thing at his Dad’s for years, mostly been coming and going as he pleased, not really answering to the old man’s rules. So he’d expected that moving out would be the same, that’d it be just like home only he didn’t have to shut the door when Rae was in his bed, or be quiet when he stumbled in late from the pub.

But it’s not. It’s still and lonely and in a lot of ways, he hates it.

Because at least at home, there’d been another body in the house. Another person’s breath shifting through the air, another person’s jacket in the closet, another person’s record left on the downstairs turntable. There’d been someone to debate about dinner with and to pound on the door for when his hands are full of groceries and he can’t reach his keys. But now, now it’s just him, and when he comes home it’s completely silent. There’s not even the ticking from the hall clock. He tells himself he needs to buy a clock, or at least swipe the one from home. He’s sure his Dad wouldn’t mind.

That’s another thing, too. He worries for his Dad all the time now. He worries that Gary’s finding the adjustment impossible, that he’s listening to soppy records and holding on to one of Finn’s baby blankets in the darkness. How will his old man adjust? They’ve been together for nineteen years, how’s Gary meant to handle having that big, ratchety house all to himself? He worries that his Dad isn’t eating regularly, that he’s staying out late, unable to handle the silence… not unlike Finn himself. He worries that Gary’s having a hard time too understanding what home means without another person to seal it.

It hadn’t seemed so much when he thought they’d be there. It hadn’t seemed empty or lonely or scary to imagine this as their flat, which he hates to acknowledge that he’d done from the beginning. He’d been toying with the idea of it, considering moving out for months. But he hadn’t because he’d figured Rae would be leaving and there’d be no reason to be alone in a flat, no reason to change the even keel of living with Gary. It was only after she’d returned from Bristol, flushed and self-effacing as she recounted the disastrous interview that he’d actually gone looking. He hadn’t told her about it for a bit, just in case she got in, he’d never want to get in the way of her big chances. He wouldn’t tell her, but he’d done it with fair expectation that it’d become their place, their home, the start of the big THEM.

And that’s when it all caved in. He should have known. It’s dangerous to expect, dangerous to plan things around someone as dynamic and celestial as Rae. She shifts so much, she’s got too much pull for the kind of settled life he’s planning. He should have known. It was too much happiness, too much future, too much love to sustain.

When Chop’d told him, when the news had leaked that she’d been denied entrance, he’d been sort of over the moon. They’d already had one unbelievable night in his flat, when they’d poured their love for each other into panting breaths and sweaty skin. And suddenly, here was the last reservation demolished, the last obstacle to the THEM removed. He’d been sad for Rae about Bristol, but she’d never seemed too fussed about it, so maybe it was all working out.

Looking back, he can see that this was the first mistake. He should have known; so many things should have been clear to him. Rae always holds the most important things closest to her chest, she never talks about the things that really matter. She’d told him one night, in one of the big talks they’d had that formed the foundation of the last year. She’d cried and whispered into the darkness that she has to keep the big things secret so the world doesn’t take them away. She’d told him then too, that he was one of the most important things, that she’d never be able to talk about them right because what she felt was just so much, so big, so scary. He’d kissed her then, allowed the silence, allowed her the space. Just like he’d done about Bristol. Just like he’d done a dozen times in a dozen mistakes.

He always seems to be making mistakes with her.

So, he should have known. But he didn’t. He should have understood what the lie meant. But he didn’t. He should have held her hand, kissed her, given her some space maybe, but still held on. But he didn’t.

He’d been so angry, so hurt, so bewildered. Life had been swirling around him unpleasantly, and he’d been unable to catch his bearings, and in the haze and confusion, he’d done what he thought was the right thing. He’d broken it off, he’d let go of them. Because in all of it, from the first conversation they’d had about Uni, he’d been certain of absolutely one thing: He would not hold Rae Earl back.

People always said Rae was “a big girl,” and Finn had always agreed. He’d known from the beginning that she was too big; too big for his small life, too big for his small heart. Rae’s a person full up, a person full of wonder and miracles and brains and bravery and bullshit. Rae’s too big to be held down, to be held back… and Finn had never ever wanted to do anything but participate in her huge life. To be a satellite to her cosmic being. So, from that first brochure, he’d vowed to himself, he would not hold her down, hold her back, reduce her in any way. And if that meant breaking up with her, giving her space to choose her big life, he could do that.

For a few hours at least. A day maybe, on the high end.

But while he’d been sulking in his empty flat, nursing bottles of beer and silence and his aching heart and swirling head, of course things had continued happening for Rae. Rae doesn’t hold still. Time doesn’t stop just because he wants it to, no matter how badly he wants it to- and God does he ever want to stop time.

So it all crashed. And even though he hadn’t been in the car, even though he hadn’t heard the metal crunch and seen the glass fly, he’d felt the impact clearly in his own life. He almost wishes he had been in the car, wishes that this wasn’t one more barrier between him and Rae. It’s more debris swirling around her surface, and he can’t even touch her hand anymore. Their conversation in the hospital is so wrought, so muddied and confusing, he can’t even begin to approach a conclusion about them. But she’d wanted to talk, and he’d hung on to that, clung on to that little glimpse of her mind. She’d wanted to talk and was scared, so that means it was important, right? She loves him, doesn’t she? She’s so blocked by all the other stuff that he can’t see it clearly.

And that is maybe the most frustrating thing of all. He’s going through his own stuff, he’s dealing with all this moving out shit and worried about being left behind by not only the girl he loves, but by the whole gang. And late at night, when he’s listening to the unfamiliar night sounds of this unfamiliar building, he’ll half admit to himself that moving out was the only thing he could think of to make himself feel like he was moving forward. He’d finally confessed, let out the words out that had been burning, stoked embers inside him for longer than he cares to admit. He’d asked for the big thing, the nervous thing that had been itching in the tips of his fingers from that first ad he’d circled in red pen. Rae’d been proud of him, seen his moving out for the step forward he’d intended it to be. She’d said she loved him, and it had sunk into him like brown liquor on a winter night, like a shooting star to light him up. He’d gotten a taste of them together, gotten a sampling of THEM, of kissing and listening to music and hanging posters and being together and having a life together and THEM, and it had been EVERYTHING. And everything had been cruelly ripped away with a congratulatory hand on his shoulder, with offers to buy him a pint and celebrate his girl’s accomplishment and wasn’t he proud?

So he can’t be blamed for being mad, can he? He can’t be blamed for his sour face and bitter attitude, for swallowing Linda’s non-alcoholic champagne but not his wounded words. Because even when they’d talked about it, even when he’d asked her the things that burned him with shame and horror and longing, she’d just said the same old thing, the same old bullshit that they’d been negotiating from the beginning. She’d cluttered up the issue with all the old garbage, with all the old shit that he’d been carefully shoveling away all this time. And it pissed him off. Her tears pissed him off. The consolation that being with him “was more than a dream,” that pissed him off, because what does that even mean? It’s nothing in the bigger scheme of things, it’s not the answer to what he’s supposed to do with all the empty space in the flat when she’s not around. It’s not the answer to what he’s supposed to do with all the empty space in his heart either. It’s not an answer at all, and he won’t hold her back, he can’t live with being the guy who holds her back. He can’t live with diminishing anything that is her.

But he can’t see her, he can’t get at her. He can’t figure out what to do, how to get rid of the barriers, how to push away all the things that are keeping her away, that are preventing him from touching her hand and holding on for dear life because she is his life. He tries to call and she doesn’t answer, he tries to talk and she’s walking away. Why won’t she look at him? Why is her head always tilted away, always off on some other thing when he loves her and he’s right here and he’ll take whatever he can get of her and why can’t she even see him? All he’s ever wanted is to be fucking seen by Rae Earl.

So, he’d fucked it up. He’d yelled at her, called her mental. God, why’d he done that? Why would he think for a minute that was a good way to get to her? Her face when she’d turned away, it was too much. She was so disappointed in him, she looked so sad. He was pretty fucking disappointed in himself too. And the second she turned away, he’d cursed at the pavement, knowing. Knowing he should have known.

These are the things he tells Katie Springer over 4 shots and 5 pints in a single afternoon.  And when he stumbles home with the sunset, struggles with the keys in his very own doorknob, it’ll be with a burn in his stomach from spilling his confession to the wrong person. And it will be with a slender redhead under his arm.


End file.
